“Will you go?” thundered Dagobert, shaking
the servant by the collar, to force him to rise.

“Speak—­speak!” said Blanche,
interposing between the soldier and his prey.
“What has happened to Madame Augustine?”

“Oh,” shouted Loony, in spite of the cuffs
of the soldier. “Madame Augustine was attacked
in the night with cholera, and taken—­”

He was unable to finish. Dagobert struck him
a tremendous blow with his fist, right on the jaw,
and, putting forth his still formidable strength,
the old horse-grenadier lifted him to his legs, and
with one violent kick bestowed on the lower part of
his back, sent him rolling into the ante chamber.

Then turning to Rodin, with flushed cheek and sparkling
eye, Dagobert pointed to the door with an expressive
gesture, and said in an angry voice: “Now,
be off with you and that quickly!”

“I must pay my respects another time, my dear
sir,” said Rodin, as he retired towards the
door, bowing to the young girls.

CHAPTER LIV.

Duty.

Rodin, retreating slowly before the fire of Dagobert’s
angry looks, walked backwards to the door, casting
oblique but piercing glances at the orphans, who were
visibly affected by the servant’s intentional
indiscretion. (Dagobert had ordered him not to speak
before the girls of the illness of their governess,
and that was quite enough to induce the simpleton
to take the first opportunity of doing so.)

Rose hastily approached the soldier, and said to him:
“Is it true—­is it really true that
poor Madame Augustine has been attacked with the cholera?”

“No—­I do not know—­I cannot
tell,” replied the soldier, hesitating; “besides,
what is it to you?”

“Dagobert, you would conceal from us a calamity,”
said Blanche. “I remember now your embarrassment,
when we spoke to you of our governess.”